


Tales of Azeroth: Honour Among Rogues

by Zaalbeth



Series: Tales of Azeroth, Volume 1 [4]
Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft: Legion - Fandom
Genre: Demon Hunters, Demons, Gen, Legion - Freeform, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 01:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17592473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaalbeth/pseuds/Zaalbeth
Summary: Warlocks; demon hunters; they all love demons, right? With so much in common, they're sure to get along famously.Problem is, this warlock isn't your average demon-fanboy. More of a warlock by necessity. Less demon worshipping, more demon vaporising.Demon hunters on the other hand. It's all "sacrifice sacrifice sacrifice Azeroth's destruction yet more sacrifice", you know the deal. They're a pretty grim lot, but they're doing what they have to to save the world. Right?This old orc isn't so sure.





	Tales of Azeroth: Honour Among Rogues

I paused on the threshold.

There it was again.

Not warlock, not quite. But something similar. Amid the bubbling heat of red mortal blood, I felt that familiar sensation searing my mind and scintillating my senses, its touch leaving an emerald green blaze in its wake.

Fel.

It was somewhere close. And getting closer.

Narrowing my eyes, I took one last look around, and stepped through the doorway.

I froze.

In front of me in the hall stood a broad, round table, its surface covered with maps and scrolls. At its right sat Zaalbeth, his head turned toward me, a slight frown already creasing his forehead. All around the room stood racks of weapons and armour, dusty crates of supplies, strange arcane devices gleaming in the half-light. But I didn’t see any of that, not yet.

At the far end of the table sat something that should not be.

An abomination.

Twin lamps of smoking fel green shone at me from beneath a pair of curved, twisted horns. From a place beyond hearing, a screaming blend of demon’s souls cried out to me, their voices and their power twisting and coursing around the prison in which they were trapped: this stupid, pathetic, fool of a mortal’s body.

Some people don’t deserve a soul.  
  


This unholy child of mortal and demon tilted its misshapen head and raised its lip in what might have been a sneer or a smile, countless razor sharp teeth gleaming in reply. It’s a good thing you’re sitting next to my friend, you pathetic wretch.

The whirl of demon’s souls was talking, screaming, singing. They cried out to be fed, for voices screaming and faces stretched in terror beneath them, to feel the life drain from their victims and to drink of their fear and the sweet iron taste of death; they shouted and threatened and whispered of the pleasure just waiting, the deep satisfaction of watching the troll’s blood spill out over your fist as you drain the life from his broken body, the exultation of tearing out his throat, tasting his soul roar through you, empowering you, feeding you, making you stronger and stronger until you could simply reach out and take _everything_ you dreamed of…

You know. The usual crap.

Amid this whirl of pleas and demands and temptations the thing sat, calmly brooding, lord of the demons, an abomination among the twisted monsters of the Legion. It showed no sign of the voices whirling in its head, but I knew.

You don’t fool me, monster. If someone had told me the day you were born you would one day be so _stupid_ as to do something like this, I would have walked into your fel-whore house and slaughtered you in your crib.

Demons weren’t exactly known for telling the truth. No doubt this fool had been seduced into desecrating its soul in order to gain power, prestige… maybe it was even deceived into believing it could help to _defeat_ the Burning Legion. Fool. The demons don’t care who does their dirty work. Now this monstrosity sat here, thinking it was working _against_ the Legion, and all the time it was giving them exactly what they wanted. Feeding the hunger that lurked within, feeding the demons and the screaming voices that cried for more, more souls, always more. It probably thought it was trapping the demon souls within. It didn’t realise it was simply gathering them in one place, just where they wanted to be: right in the ear of the enemies of the Legion.

How long would it take before the creature succumbed to temptation and went over entirely to the Legion’s service? Before the craving for fresh souls became too strong, the scraps it was thrown too meagre, the mortals milling around it too tempting targets? How long before it sold its secrets and the lives of everyone it knew to satisfy its dark hunger?

If I had my way, we wouldn’t be waiting to find out.

Suddenly, the thing was on its feet, its grotesque, leathery wings folding behind it. Damn you’re ugly. I might have to kill you just for the children’s sake. Its misshapen head turned as its body rose from the seat, but its eyes never left mine. That’s right. You don’t fool me. I know what you are.

Step by step it made its way around the table, its disgusting form moving slowly closer until it stood directly behind my friend, its claws dangling inches from his neck. My hands twitched at my side. Just one moment, that’s all it would take… and we would all be free of this abomination.

The creature paused, as if sensing my thoughts. Slowly its head tilted onto its side, as if trying to remember something. Where it had left its soul, perhaps.

In the silence, Zaalbeth looked slowly up at me, his shape tiny in the shadow of the creature looming over him. My eyes didn’t leave the creature, but I could feel the priest’s gaze, cautioning me. No need for concern. I’m not stupid. I know where the lines are drawn. Even when they’re wrong.

With the clop of hoof on stone, the beast resumed its slow, deliberate passage, moving past my friend and ever closer to me. As the creature drew slowly away from the priest I felt my hands relax, just slightly.

The thing was past the table now, nearing the door. The burning orbs drew closer and closer, until the creature was close enough to reach out and choke. This close I could practically taste the fel, the screaming voices deafening in my mind. The monstrosity tilted its head, its teeth glistening, some semblance of mortal thought perhaps still floating inside.

The voices cried out for release, begging me to slay the monster, to rid the world of this nightmare, before it was too late. To right the terrible wrong of its existence, to avenge the desecration of this realm perpetrated by the birth of this abomination.

Funny how that would also free all the demon souls trapped inside it, sending them screaming back into the Nether like some demonic homecoming. Ready to share all that they had learnt, all the secrets and strategic knowledge this fool had allowed them to drink of. Ready to put it to good use, in the service of the Legion.

Funny, that.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was the promise I’d made, when I’d accepted Zaalbeth’s invitation. And I wasn’t going to break that promise just to satisfy a little bloodlust, even if we did end up regretting it later. That kind of weakness is your area of expertise, wretch, not mine.

As if sensing my resolve the creature snorted, and turned away.

Then it was gone.

The howling whirl of cries slowly receded, and the emerald blaze in my mind died down. I took a slow breath, then turned back to the table, and drew myself up a chair.

The priest was waiting. “Malgreivas was just informin’ us a de Legion’s latest movements, brudda.” Zaalbeth eyed me cautiously, his face, as always, neutral.

I just grunted. I guess it pays to have a craven plaything of the Legion spilling its guts for your side.

But not nearly enough gut-spilling if you ask me.


End file.
